Diamond Earrings
by lazaefair
Summary: She wants something precious to hold. First person oneshot.


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A one-shot bumping around in my head. I'm most concerned with whether I've captured this character's voice or not. Review and let me know.

All standard disclaimers apply

I have to have them.

Because they were, you know, gorgeous, and I can't resist gorgeous things.

And, ohhh, those are the prettiest earrings I've seen in a long time. Believe me, I've seen some pretty things in my time. One of which is me, of course. But, anyway, the minute I saw them I had to have those earrings.

The way they sparkled as they turned in their little glass display case. They were small, but well-cut, and they cast rainbows all over the gray velvet they were nestled in. Nothing too outrageous—I hate jewelry, or clothes or makeup for that matter, that looks too flashy. Tackiness is definitely something I try to avoid.

But these weren't tacky. No, I had to have them. Had to. I could already see myself wearing them, to go with that pretty pink top and skirt I'd just gotten from my last trip to Ralph Lauren.

Well, the price tag did look a little...much. But my family's rich enough, I think. Besides, my birthday is coming up in the next month—maybe I could nudge dad into buying them as an early present. Even if he's already probably gotten me something. Well. Maybe I'll think of it as a late, late, late Christmas present.

Now, the only trick is getting my dad to buy them in the first place. That wouldn't be too hard, because I've done it more times than I can count before. Men are so easy to manipulate, you know? I dressed carefully for the campaign, almost as carefully as for a party or dance. Have to impress the boys—or in this case, a dad. A cute cardigan, flattering skirt (but not too flattering), and a bit of light makeup. There. I look exactly like the pretty, obedient, modest daughter that I was, or so my dad thought.

Not like he really cares. Well, maybe he does, but only so he can show me off to his friends with my brother and prove how much of a successful father he is. And mom is almost as bad. She only cares about keeping the perfect family image—white picket fences, wisteria hedges, being a perfectly coiffed hostess at luxe social events and all that shit. Normally I hate it. I hate being in the middle, being used like that, you know?

But all of that is an advantage for me, when I want something. And lord, do I want those earrings. April Crawford has sapphire ones and just last week Jackie Lexington was strutting around with her platinum bracelets, but they aren't the only reason I want diamond earrings. I just...want them. Want to feel them in my ears, a comfortable weight to keep me going whenever things go wrong. Diamonds are forever, after all...and a girl's best friend. It's not like I have anyone else, you know?

And, no, don't talk to me about Jonathan. He cares even less than my family–well, I guess that's not so surprising, seeing as he's not part of the family. But at least he says he loves me, which is more than what can be said for mom or even dad. I'm just "Princess" to him, never even for a moment "daughter." And mom thinks I'm another piece of furniture in the living room, only I happen to walk and talk and eat. She even says my name sometimes, but only when she's mad at me for wearing clashing colors or not being lovey-dovey enough to Jonathan.

Not that she, you know, really cares about Jonathan. Or us. He's a gorgeous hunk, yeah. He's richer than Croesus, yeah. He...has a way of touching me when I'm least expecting it, and it's like that time last summer when the air-conditioning broke down for a week, only we could be standing in the arctic for all it matters to me and my body temperature. And, it's nice, I guess, only I know he doesn't mean it. He doesn't mean it. He only wants sex, you know? I can see it in his eyes. And call me old-fashioned, but I've always dreamed of waiting until marriage. There's something so...romantic about waiting for the right person. Something only for him to have, and only him. Jonathan's not the right guy. He tells me he loves me, but I don't think he'd stick around if I lost my looks or my money. Who the fuck would care, anyway, about a poor, ugly ex-princess?

Not my parents. Not Jonathan. Not April Crawford or Jackie Lexington or any of those girls I hang out with. No one.

So.

Diamond earrings.

"Daddy? Can I talk to you about something..."


End file.
